How do you survive being shot and left for dead in the Chihuahuan Desert? By being found by a beautiful wildlife photographer willing to risk her life to save yours.
A bitter ex-cop fights for his life after he runs to the sound of gunfire on the Ri...
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That evening at his RV, Mendocino put the migrant murder files into one small box, tucking it under his bed.
He put Lisa's big box of files on his table, preparing to thumb through it. He was ready to see what real files would reveal. It would take weeks to digest everything in the big box.
Chirp! Chirp! Chirp! He flinched. A motion-detector alarm shattered the silence, his neck and shoulders tightening. Amos was the only person who knew where he lived, and he always called before he came. He peeked out the window blinds. It was twilight, a compact car parked in his drive, the headlights already off. The car had pulled up in silence.
Mendocino checked his security camera live stream video on his cellphone, switching between the various stations. Nothing new but the little car. His gut-churning, he grabbed his nine-millimeter Glock from the tabletop, glancing at surveillance camera video, surveying the interior of his RV, choking back the knot climbing in his throat. He was trapped again, like being back in the cave. Bullets would easily penetrate the RV walls. Like a sloth, he inched into the bathroom. You can hear people move around inside an RV.
Rap-Rap-Rap! A knock at the door.
He checked the surveillance stream again. Nothing. What the hell?
Rap-Rap! He froze in the bathroom, the hair on his arms tingling.
"Mendocino?"
He exhaled and leaned his head against the bathroom wall, closing his eyes in relief. He knew that voice. Relief was followed by embarrassment. He was mortified at his fear. His face flushed. What a coward you've become.
Opening the RV door, he looked down to see Tillie gazing up, smiling, appearing tinier than ever. The RV was on tires, stabilized by screw jacks. The motion detector caught the vehicle's approach, but his video cameras were placed too high to capture her image, short as she was. He'd have to lower them.
She looked up, holding out a bottle of red wine like a peace offering. "Amos tells me you like to sit outside and watch the sunset. I do too." A white peasant dress fell low on her shoulders, her hair loose, braided at the temples.
Mendocino stepped outside, looking around. "You're not supposed to be here."
Her cheeks flushed. Tillie opened her mouth as if to speak. She shook her head, withdrew the bottle, turned, and walked away briskly, her back straight.
He watched, paralyzed, then scrambled across the gravel and caliche drive after her. "Wait, Tillie. You caught me off-guard, that's all. I didn't expect anyone. It's dangerous for you to be here."
She whirled around, the amber in her eyes burning coals in a campfire. "I promise you this, Mendocino Jones." She waved the wine bottle. "You will never get another chance to tell me to leave. Twice is quite enough."
Opening her car door, she stepped around to get inside, but he grabbed it. She tried to jerk the door from him, but she couldn't. As their gazes held, tears welled in her eyes.
He moved around, grabbing her, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her against him, for the first time feeling her hair, her skin, her body pressed against his. Her gentle scent. "You're the reason I'm alive." He cupped her chin in his hands, forcing her to meet his gaze, his voice tender. "I'll do whatever it takes to protect you, including staying away from you for your own safety."
Her back tensed; her eyes misty as she pushed with both hands against his chest. "A park ranger could have saved you. Is that what you feel? Gratitude?"
He stared at her a moment, tilted his head, his gaze roaming the new night sky, searching for the right words to go with muddled thoughts. "Maybe it's as simple as chemistry, Tillie. I don't know." He ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead. "The truth is, I think about you all the time. Thinking about you made me forget the pain. But men are out to kill me, and I don't want you to get hurt."
"If those men wanted you dead, Mendocino, you'd be dead. It's months. What are they waiting for?"
He didn't have an answer. He'd wondered the same. His stare was blank.
Tears rolled from her eyes. "It's just gratitude. I misread everything. I knew I shouldn't have come here." She wiped her wet cheeks with her bare hands, getting into the driver's seat.
Mendocino held onto the door.
"I need to go." She looked away.
He stood there, speechless. She was something in that soft dress. "How'd you find me?"
She wouldn't look at him. "There aren't many RV places around here. Amos said you had a gray GMC truck. It wasn't difficult."
He scanned the length of the Prius, from headlights to bumper, resting his hand on its roof. "Is this the car you put me in?"
"No. I have a Jeep for my work." She faced him. "Let me go, Mendocino. I want to leave."
He hesitated, staring at her, then he shut the door, stopping, and re-opening it just before it closed. "You're wrong," he said. "You're the prettiest woman I ever saw and if I were free, I would be knocking on your door every night."
She laid her forehead on her hands atop the steering wheel, her long brown hair falling around. He wanted to pull her out of the car and kiss her. But he didn't move.
Neither of them spoke for what seemed an endless moment, and then she sighed, turning her head to face him with tear-filled eyes. "You are free, Mendocino." She grabbed the door handle, closed it, and backed her car out of his drive. He watched her leave. Again.
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